


All Change

by cassie_black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_erised, First Kiss, Getting Together, H/D Erised 2018, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Minor Pansy Parkinson/George Weasley, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oblivious Harry, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_black/pseuds/cassie_black
Summary: Neville and Luna are getting married, Draco’s playing bridesmaid, and Harry’s finally learning that people really can change.





	All Change

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for running this wonderful fest, and for their patience and understanding. And thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or comment. I hope you all have very happy holidays!

For all that Draco Malfoy had been a constant blight on Harry’s life at Hogwarts, after the war he seemed to become invisible. There was the occasional mention let slip by one of his friends – Hermione, he knew, had become far too forgiving during her eighth year, and Luna, who seemed to have taken leave of the rest of her senses, had worked past her captivity to become actual friends with the little ferret. But, for the most part, Malfoy had become nothing more than a distant memory.

It was a little odd, now that Harry thought about it. How someone could go from being such a large part of his life – even if in a negative way – to being someone he had barely thought of in years. Granted, Malfoy had been out of the country for a large part of that time, but from what little he had gleaned from his friends, Malfoy had been _home_ for the best part of a year now. And still nothing.

As an Auror, Harry didn’t exactly move in the same circles, but they did work in the same building, shared a couple of mutual friends, and Harry wasn’t stupid – he knew Andromeda had built bridges with her estranged family, however tight-lipped she was about it around him. By rights their paths should have crossed. How much, Harry didn’t realise until things changed. Then it seemed like Malfoy was everywhere he looked.

For this, Harry was content to blame Luna. And Neville a little bit. But blaming Neville was rather like kicking a puppy, and Harry had the feeling that Luna was finding recent events entirely too amusing, so he was more than comfortable laying the entire blame at her feet.

***

“That’s brilliant news!” Harry clapped Neville firmly on the shoulder, and for once the smile on his face wasn’t forced in the slightest. “Congratulations, both of you.”

While Neville blushed in the face of Harry’s enthusiasm, Luna only smiled serenely.

“Wait till I tell Ron. He was determined that him and Hermione would be the first to get married.” Harry rocked back in his chair, already anticipating Ron’s irritation. Hermione had insisted that her career be firmly established before she became the next Mrs Weasley, and Harry might have felt some sympathy for his best friend, but...Ron had run off to play shops with George and left Harry without his partner, so he felt a little bit justified.

“I can tell him, can’t I?” Harry rocked back onto all four chair legs. “It’s not like a secret or anything?”

Luna shook her head, sunflowers dancing from her ears. “There’s an announcement coming out in the _Prophet_ today, so the cat’s already half out of the bag.”

“The _Prophet_? Not the _Quibbler_ then?” Harry teased.

Luna’s lips pursed ever so slightly. “It’s the correct way to do things, apparently.”

Harry sipped his pint to mask his surprise. “That’s...I didn’t think you bothered about being correct.”

“I don’t,” Luna admitted slowly. She reached out and took Neville’s hand with such a look of affection that Harry was almost a little jealous. “But Mrs Longbottom does, and we don’t want to upset her.”

Harry nodded and diverted his gaze from the besotted look that Neville gave his, well, his fiancée was the correct term now, Harry supposed. Neville had mentioned his gran’s health a few times, and he could understand the urge to keep her happy.

“Draco’s been such a wonderful help with all that,” Luna added airily.

“Malfoy?” Harry couldn’t keep the disbelieving tone out of his voice for the life of him.

“ _Draco._ ” Luna had just a hint of chastisement in her tone but Harry would not be made to feel bad for not using the ferret’s first name. “And Narcissa too. They’re both incredibly knowledgeable about the right traditions and customs to follow.”

Harry huffed. He could well imagine the sorts of pureblood rules and regulations Malfoy was full of. Hermione’d be lucky to get an invite if the Malfoys had their way. Not that Harry said any of this out loud. Despite her mellow appearance, Luna could be surprisingly forceful in defence of her friends, and that’s what Malfoy was, however much it pained Harry to acknowledge it.

“I want you to be my best man,” Neville blurted out suddenly before that line of conversation could progress any further. “Will you...I mean, I’d really like if...”

“I’d love to.” And Harry meant it genuinely. He and Neville had become much closer recently, and though Ron would always be his best friend – there was too much shared history between them for that to change – Neville was as close to that as Harry could imagine anyone ever coming. “Seriously, I’m really chuffed that you thought of me.”

Neville relaxed visibly at that – as if there was a chance that Harry might have said no. “That’s great. I, _we_ couldn’t think of anyone better for the job.”

It was Harry’s turn to flush now; he’d never been that comfortable with compliments. “I’ll make sure things aren’t awkward between me and Gin either. Just because we’ve broken up, no reason we can’t get along for your big day.”

“Ginny?” Luna had a faintly puzzled expression on her face.

“Yeah, well, I know you two aren’t as close now that she’s always off with the Harpies,” and Harry was really proud of how he kept the bitterness out of his voice, “but I just assumed she’d be your bridesmaid.”

“Oh.” From Luna’s expression it was clear the idea had never even occurred to her. “Do you think she’ll be expecting that? Only, I’ve already asked Draco.”

“I don’t know if she’ll expect it, but—Hang on!” Harry’s glass banged onto the table. “Did you just say you’d asked Malfoy? 

Luna gave another serene nod, but Harry didn’t miss the grin spreading across Neville’s face.

“But he’s a bloke.”

“Yes, he is rather, isn’t he?” If anyone asked, Harry would swear he saw Luna smirk ever so slightly, even as she tried to hide it behind her wine glass.

He turned to Neville in mute appeal.

Neville just shrugged helplessly. “I know it’s a little unorthodox, but...”

“But he’s a _bloke,_ ” Harry repeated, because he was pretty sure it bore repeating.

“You do seem rather fixated on that, Harry.” Luna was definitely smirking now. “Draco was delighted when I asked him.”

Harry might not have spoken with Malfoy in years, but he very much doubted that was true. “Is he going to be wearing a dress?”

“Of course not, that would be silly. He’ll wear robes like the rest of the men.”

“But if he’s your bridesmaid...” Even the words felt surreal as Harry said them.

“Man of Honour, actually,” Neville said, not even bothering to hide his amusement now.

“Honestly, Harry.” Luna gave Neville an indulgent smile, before fixing her gaze on Harry. “I’m sure you can put the past behind you for one day.” And there was a note of steel in Luna’s voice that implied he’d better or there’d be consequences.

“Bloody Hell.” Harry sat back in his chair feeling somewhat dazed. He was going to have to play nicely with Malfoy or risk Luna’s wrath. And Harry had witnessed that wrath on one very memorable occasion, and had enough sense to know he’d rather not be on the receiving end of it.

***

“I’m starting to have flashbacks of 6th year.”

Harry stared in surprise at Hermione as she cut him off mid-flow. She returned his look with one that dared him to dispute her words.

Ron let out a groan, though whether this was in support of his girlfriend or the result of the third helping of pie he’d consumed wasn’t quite clear. Although, Harry thought, on reflection, the hand rubbing his belly was a good indicator.

“What?” Harry decided denial was his best line of defence. “I’m just saying.”

“You’ve been just saying for the last two hours, mate. All this talk of Malfoy is putting me off my food.”

Hermione looked pointedly from his clean plate to his face with one brow raised.

“Well, not literally, obviously. But still, it’s definitely giving me indigestion.”

“Of course it has.” Hermione patted his tummy before turning her amused gaze on Harry. “Ron’s right, though, Harry. You’ve barely stopped talking about Malfoy since we sat down.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Harry reached for his drink only to find the glass empty. “You don’t think it’s a bit odd, him being a bridesmaid?” 

“It’s certainly unusual.” Hermione ignored Ron’s amused snort. “But this is Luna we’re talking about. Did you really expect her wedding to be entirely traditional? Even to please Mrs Longbottom?”

“You’ve got to admit it’s a bit out there.” Ron reached over and began to refill Harry’s wineglass. “Even by Luna’s standards.”

Harry nodded. “Exactly. I mean, it’s _Malfoy_.”

“I meant more that he’s a bloke.” Glass full, Ron leant back in his chair again. “I can’t believe he said yes. Thought he’d be too concerned about appearances to do something like this.”

“I think he was really flattered that she asked, and didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying no. You know she’s a weak spot for him.”

Ron nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that. It’s still bloody weird though.”

Glad at least one of his friends was on the same page, Harry reached for his drink. Then stilled suddenly. “Hang on, when did he tell you that?”

“Honestly, Harry! I’m allowed to have other friends, aren’t I?”

“Of course. I just didn’t realise you were that chummy with him. You’ve never mentioned it.”

“Well, no.” From her tone it sounded like Hermione thought this should be obvious. “When someone mentions Draco you tend to get a bit…well, like _this._ ” She waved a vague hand in Harry’s direction. 

“Like what?” Harry bristled and made no attempt to hide it. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Tone defiant, he paused for a drink, before adding, “You agreed it was odd, both of you.”

“It is unusual, I’m not denying that. But does it really warrant a two hour conversation?” Hermione sipped at her own drink, her eyes fixed on Harry over the rim. “You still seem…well, fixated, frankly. And that’s why I don’t bring him up around you.” She placed her glass carefully back on the table and leant forward slightly. “People change, Harry. You need to move on. Even Ron manages to be civil to Draco now.”

“Hey!” Ron beat Harry to the punch with his protest.

Hermione didn’t reply. She just arched one well-practiced brow in his direction until Ron deflated.

“Point taken.” Ron slumped forward, elbows on the table, and gazed thoughtfully at his drink for what seemed to Harry like the longest time. “What we’re trying to say,” he said eventually, “is that you’ve barely mentioned Luna and Neville in all this, or you being their best man. Two of your closest friends just announced they’re getting married and all you’re banging on about is some bloke you’ve barely spoken to in the last four years.”

Malfoy was hardly just _some bloke_ , Harry wanted to point out. But he figured he should probably avoid making Ron’s point for him. Besides, when Ron started making sense, it was usually a sign that something was wrong. Not that Harry was willing to accept it was him, just yet. “Fine. I won’t mention him again.”

“No one’s saying you have to do that.” Hermione’s tone was just sharp enough to show her irritation. She pushed her chair back and began gathering up their empty plates. “Just stop acting like he’s the same brat we went to school with. Do you really think I’d be friends with him if he was?”

“I suppose not,” Harry allowed grudgingly. Hermione had a soft heart but she was nobody’s fool.

“You should talk to him.” Harry’s expression clearly spoke volumes about this suggestion, because Hermione carried on quickly. “I’m serious. I think you’d actually get on if you gave him a chance. Are you really going to let some imaginary feud ruin Luna and Neville’s wedding?”

“I wouldn’t.” Harry protested, but Hermione was already heading to the kitchen, clearly satisfied with having made her point. “I wouldn’t,” he repeated, with a glare at Ron who really should have had his back on all this. 

“Not on purpose,” Ron agreed. “But I’m not sure you can help yourself where Malfoy’s concerned.”

“I thought it was _Draco_ now?” Harry wasn’t above being petty when he felt attacked.

Ron grimaced. “Hardly.” He leant further forward on his chair and kept a wary eye on the kitchen door. “Look, he’s still a narky git at times, and I have no plans to invite him down the pub Friday evening, but he’s civil when we meet, and he’s nice to Hermione.” Ron sank back in his chair with a shrug. “That’s enough for me, you know?”

Harry did know, but it just wasn’t enough for _him_. “I just don’t get why everything has to change.” 

“Because people grow up.” Hermione’s tone was brisk and unsympathetic this time. “This isn’t Neverland, Harry. And you’re certainly not Peter.”

Ron snorted into his glass. “If he was, would that make Malfoy Tinkerbell?”

Even Harry, despite the simmering irritation under his skin, couldn’t help a chuckle at this. Hermione, meanwhile, looked at her boyfriend in surprise.

“What? You thought that book was written by a Muggle?”

Hermione didn’t reply though. She turned back to Harry with a determined expression in place. “School’s over. We’re not going back to Hogwarts, and frankly, I wouldn’t want to. You need to start looking forward and stop living in the past.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, mate.” Ron spoke softly but firm. “You’re still stuck in the whole ‘Slytherins are evil’ mentality. And yeah, I know some of them are gits still, but even George—”

“George has been dating Pansy Parkinson for the last three months.”

Both men turned to face Hermione – Harry in shock, Ron in horror.

“Bloody hell. What happened to breaking it to him gently?”

Unrepentant, Hermione took her seat at the table again. “He’s not a child, Ron.”

“And he’s not deaf either,” Harry snapped. “Can you stop talking about me like I am?”

“I’m sorry, Harry. But I refuse to coddle you any longer.”

“I never asked you to,” Harry said, stung by the accusation. He did his best to rein in his temper, but it was really becoming hard work. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“Because George didn’t want us to. He thought you’d start banging on about her like you do about Malfoy, and he didn’t want to fall out with you over it.”

“That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t do that.”

“It’s what you do to Luna about Draco,” Hermione pointed out mercilessly. “And to me, too.” She reached over and covered Harry’s hand with her own before he could snatch it away. “Look, I get that the war was more personal for you.”

Harry nodded in agreement and ignored the quiet voice that pointed out Luna had been imprisoned in Malfoy’s home, and Hermione tortured there, so it was plenty personal for them too.

“But for your own sake, if no one else’s, you need to let it go. I realise friends might be asking too much.” Hermione gave a wry smile here. “But would civility really be that hard?”

Of course it would be. It was bad enough that Malfoy and his cronies had tormented Harry throughout school, tried to kill him during the war, now he was trying to steal Harry’s friends, his family. But Hermione looked hopeful and he hated to disappoint her, so Harry gave the barest hint of a smile and said, “I suppose not.”

The smile he got in return was bright enough to make the lie bitter on his tongue, but Harry had no doubt that this was one of those times where honestly was absolutely _not_ the best policy.

***

Harry barely had time to dust the Floo powder from his clothes before an excitable Teddy tore across the room.

“Harry! You came!” Small arms gripped tightly around Harry’s legs as he steadied the squirming boy. “We thought you wasn’t comin.”

A quick glance at the clock had Harry shifting guiltily. “Of course I came. You’re my favourite person in the whole world.”

“Where were you?” Teddy’s arms rose up and Harry complied instantly. He settled the small boy on one hip. 

“I was with my friend, Luna. You remember her, right? She was at my birthday party.”

Harry secretly suspected Teddy remembered little off that party outside of the presents he had demanded to ‘help’ open and the cake he’d gorged on, but he received a nod in reply.

“She had pretty hair. Like Cousin Draco.” And then Teddy’s hair shifted to a Malfoyesque shade of blond to emphasise his point.

Harry tried his hardest not to be jealous of the increasing role Malfoy played in his godson’s life, but he was no saint and it was bloody hard.

“How are the wedding preparations coming along?” Andromeda had impeccable timing and Harry could have kissed her.

“All under control from the sounds of it.” To be honest, Harry had tuned out a lot of what Luna had said – it was a side effect of her using the phrase _Draco says_ entirely too often. Still, at least he’d got permission to start planning the stag – Malfoy could keep his bloody mitts off that.

“Such an exciting time for them.” Andromeda’s expression saddened a little, as it was still prone to do. Four years was no time to get over the loss of both husband and child, Harry supposed. “I imagine Draco has things firmly under control.” She smiled then. “He really does remind me of a young Narcissa at times.”

Despite the rekindled relationship with her sister, Andromeda rarely brought her up in front of Harry. Something he was more than happy to encourage. He’d paid his debt to Narcissa Malfoy during the trials, and though he’d offered nothing in defence of her husband, Harry had no doubt that his testimony had been key in releasing both her and her son. He kept his thoughts to himself, though. He couldn’t begrudge Andromeda the only family she had left. And Teddy too. However, much it irked him.

“Have you seen him recently?”

Harry placed a wriggling Teddy on the floor, where he swiftly made his way to his toy chest – clearly wedding talk was not for him. Harry could sympathise.

“Malfoy?” he asked carefully.

“I know you’re not close.” Andromeda’s wry smile indicated she knew just how much of an understatement this was. “I just thought...with the wedding? You’re both playing rather key roles.”

The now familiar image of Malfoy in a taffeta dress came to mind and Harry grinned, just a little. “No. I mean, I see him in passing at the Ministry, but we haven’t spoken in years. Luna’s probably keeping us apart as much as possible.”

Andromeda’s disappointed face looked remarkably like Hermione’s, and was just as effective at making Harry squirm. “People change, Harry,” she said softly. “If you’d just give him a chance.”

The clock chimed then before Harry could reflect fully on how tired he was of hearing that. Apparently everyone else was allowed to change, but he was dragging his heels.

Andromeda looked from the clock back to Harry, expression nervous but just a little determined. “Now might be the perfect opportunity.”

Before he could question what she meant, Teddy repeated his earlier actions, only on his grandma this time. “Is it Cousin Draco?” He bounced excitedly as he clung to her legs. “Is he comin?”

Harry’s eyes shot to the clock. He’d been overjoyed the day that Andromeda had pointed to the hand that represented him, and now bloody Malfoy was on it. With Luna and Neville, Hermione, and now this, it was like the bastard was trying to take over every aspect of Harry’s life.

“I didn’t know you were expecting visitors,” he said, stiffly.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here, Harry. We expected you this morning.”

“Sorry.” Harry knew she didn’t mean it as a jab, but it found its target nonetheless. “I didn’t mean to be late.” He rubbed tiredly at his face, in part to avoid seeing the confused expression on Teddy’s face. “I should probably get out of your hair.”

“Stay.” It was Teddy, not Andromeda, who spoke, and he backed it up with a tug on Harry’s jumper. “Cousin Draco is the best at playing trains. Please, Harry?”

And because he’d never been able to say no to Teddy, much to Andromeda’s endless frustration, Harry was still there five minutes later when his ‘nemesis’ emerged from the Floo.

Malfoy exited the fireplace with the sort of grace that made Harry jealous and also want to punch him at the same time. Even after eleven years in the wizarding world, Harry still barely managed the grace of a new born foal. Mindful of Andromeda’s watchful gaze and Teddy’s excitement, Harry pasted on the best smile he could.

“Malfoy,” he managed to grit out, with the barest nod of his head.

Malfoy stepped out of his aunt’s embrace. There was definite surprise on his face when he spotted Harry, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared. “Potter.” He inclined his head in return.

“Honestly.” Andromeda shook her head, but she didn’t seem unduly annoyed. “Would you like a tea, Draco?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” 

The smile he gave his aunt caught Harry off guard. He didn’t think he’d ever seen such a genuine expression on Malfoy’s face – apart from fear during the war, but Harry made it a point not to think of such things. It made Malfoy look human, friendly almost, and if Harry didn’t know what a git he really was, it was easy to see how people could be drawn in.

Andromeda had exited the room by the time Harry realised he was still starting. And only then because Malfoy looked at him curiously in return.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked.

“What? No...I was just thinking about something.” Harry could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and cursed his inability to hide it.

“Thinking?” 

There was something about the way he said it, or the slight curve of Malfoy’s lips that made Harry want to put him in his place. “Yes. Just trying to imagine you in your bridesmaid dress.”

Instead of the irritation Harry’d expected, Malfoy’s lips curved even further until there was an undeniable smile on his face. “Oh Potter. You’ll have to do better than that. I’ve been friends with Pansy for over twenty years, and no one takes the p…” he trailed off here with a guilty look in Teddy’s direction. “Let’s just say she can be very cutting when she wants to, and has already had extensive mileage out of the whole ‘bridesmaid’ thing.”

“Draaaco.” Teddy was practically bouncing at their feet, his boredom with their conversation writ large on his face. “You said you’d play with me.”

Malfoy’s attention immediately turned the small boy, and a soft smile warmed his face. “So I did. Where shall we start?” He shrugged off his outer robe and settled it carefully over the arm of a nearby chair.

Teddy took hold of both Harry’s and Malfoy’s hands and began dragging them to the chest by the large, sunny window. “Harry’s going to play with us too,” Teddy explained.

“Is he really?” Malfoy looked at him curiously and Harry tried his hardest not to squirm under the gaze.

“I heard you were the best person to play trains with.” He’d meant it to be mocking, but Harry was horrified to hear what resembled teasing in his tone.

“You heard correct.” Malfoy began rolling up his sleeves before helping Teddy unload the wooden track from the chest. “I think I’d like the red engine today.” He reached into the chest and pulled out a bright red engine that reminded Harry, with a pang, of the Hogwarts’ Express.

“I’m blue!” Teddy snatched the aforementioned train and sank down to the floor, chubby fingers immediately slotting the track together. 

“What colour do I get?” Harry took his seat on the floor between the two of them – he could only imagine Hermione’s expression if she could see him right at that moment.

Before Teddy could scramble up to check, Malfoy reached into the chest.

“How about this one?” He asked, then held out a bright green engine with a look on his face that just dared Harry to object. 

Determined to rise above it for once – and wouldn’t Hermione be proud – Harry just took the toy with a pasted on smile. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

“It’s Draco,” Teddy said firmly. “Not Malfoy. I told you that, Harry.”

Malfoy, the bastard, was smirking openly. While Teddy had such a guileless expression on his face that Harry decided this wasn’t a set up. “Fine. Draco then,” he said through gritted teeth.

“My pleasure, Harry.” 

Even though the smile on _Draco’s_ face looked genuine, and Harry suspected he was being teased rather than mocked, he just couldn’t bring himself to play along. _Draco_ might be willing to let bygones be bygones, but Harry definitely wasn’t at that point. But he could pretend for an afternoon, for Teddy.

***

Harry had barely closed his eyes before a persistent tapping on his window forced him to peel them open again. A late night spent fruitlessly chasing potion smugglers around the West Country had sent him to bed in a dark mood – being dragged from what felt like mere minutes of sleep did nothing to improve on it.

“Bloody bird!”

He rolled over and groped blindly on the floor. His fingers fastened on a discarded trainer and he took his best aim. The tapping continued. The owl clearly unfazed, which given that Harry had knocked over his lamp instead, was hardly a surprise.

“Fuck’s sake!” Harry flung back his duvet and braved bare feet on the cold floor. With another muttered curse, he hurried over and yanked the window open. A rather disapproving tawny owl ruffled its feathers and hooted something that Harry had no doubt would be rude if he could understand. He snatched the parchment from the owl’s outstretched leg and, as he tore it open, pondered which hex he should use on whoever was to blame for disturbing his sleep. A quick scan to the bottom of the letter revealed the culprit and did nothing to relieve the scowl on Harry’s face.

“Why the fuck is Malfoy owling me?” He might have been Draco under Teddy’s watchful eye, but it would be a long time before Harry thought of him that way.

As it turned out, what Malfoy wanted was lunch. More specifically, lunch with him. Which sounded like a sure recipe for disaster to Harry, but Malfoy mentioned discussing the wedding and Harry could only imagine Luna’s disappointed expression if she found out he’d turned down Malfoy’s overture. He scribbled a brief, and reluctant, agreement, before the owl almost snatched it back and took to the skies – clearly Malfoy birds were as prickly as their owner.

With a regretful look at his bed, Harry dragged himself towards the bathroom. If he was going to be faced with Malfoy, he needed his wits about him; hopefully a shower would do the trick.

Two hours later saw Harry pushing his way through the Leaky Cauldron’s doors. He scanned the room for a familiar shock of blond hair, and then headed to the bar when it became clear he’d arrived first.

“Hi Harry.”

Hannah Abbott was as round-faced and smiley as she’d ever been at Hogwarts, and Harry felt a momentary relief that not everyone had changed drastically over the last four years. Although, he was looking at her over a bar now, rather than a classroom.

“Hi Hannah.” He placed his wallet on the bar and smiled in return. “Can I get a pint of bitter, please?” There was no way he’d make it through lunch without some liquid courage.

“Drinking in the day?” she teased, and reached for a fresh glass. “It can’t be that bad, surely?”

“You’d be surprised.” Harry dug in his wallet. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Malfoy in here, have you?”

“Draco?”

Harry wondered if it was possible for Hannah’s eyebrows to go any higher, and tried to ignore the stab of irritation at yet another person using his first name. “I’m not likely to be looking for Lucius, am I?”

Hannah placed his drink on the bar and just smiled in return. “Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t exactly expect you to be looking for Draco either.” She paused then, and a slight frown creased her brow. “You’re not going to start anything, are you? Because—”

“No! Of course I’m not.” 

Hannah raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, it’s just... I remember you two at school, and you’re not exactly mates now, are you?”

Harry took a long swallow of his pint before responding. It was probably a fair point, and he didn’t want to snap at Hannah. “We’re definitely not mates, no. But I’d like to think we’ve both grown up a little since Hogwarts.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Harry’s head turned sharply to the left at the new voice. He didn’t _need_ to look because he knew exactly who it was, but there’d always been a bit of a moth and flame situation between him and Malfoy.

“Hi Draco.” Thankfully Hannah filled the silence that Harry’s awkwardness left. “What can I get you?”

Malfoy smiled warmly in return. “Hello.” He paused then and cast a quick glance at the drink Harry was currently clutching like a lifeline. “I’ll take another one of those, please.” He nodded towards Harry’s glass. “If you can’t beat them, right?”

“You’re drinking bitter?” Harry couldn’t help himself ask incredulously. 

Malfoy’s smile was just a little crooked when he turned it on Harry. “It’s been known to happen, Potter.”

“What happened to Harry?” Harry asked.

“I assumed that was for Teddy’s benefit.” 

Malfoy wasn’t wrong, but for some reason it bothered Harry. He didn’t want to admit Malfoy was right, because that might cause hell to freeze over, but he couldn’t very well deny it. So he stared at his pint as if in search of the answer.

Malfoy took pity on him and turned to Hannah instead. “Can we grab a table? I see you’ve got steak and ale pie on today, and I’m ravenous.”

“I have no idea where you put all the food you eat,” Hannah replied, as she grabbed an order pad. “You’re skinny as a rake.”

“I am not.” Malfoy sounded offended, but Harry was surprised to realise he could tell it was faked. “I just have a fast metabolism.”

“It’s all right for some.” Hannah chuckled as she scribbled Malfoy’s order on the pad. “You want anything, Harry?”

“I can highly recommend the pie,” Malfoy said. “It really is excellent.”

Harry stared for a moment, entirely confused by this polite, friendly version of the git he knew. Or used to know. “Um…yeah, go on then,” he said finally. “Can I get chips with it?” 

“Coming right up.” Hannah scribbled some more on the pad. “Grab a table; I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

She turned to leave and Harry was suddenly conscious of the fact it was just him and Malfoy now, and he racked his brain desperately for something to say. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms. He picked his pint from the bar and gestured to the empty tables.

“Shall we?”

Harry nodded. “Sure.” And he headed to one of the tables at the back of the room.

“Worried about being seen with me?” Malfoy asked, tone carefully light.

Harry flushed a little – that had been one of the reasons for his choice. Not because he was embarrassed as such, but he’d never hear the end of it if Hermione got wind of this meeting. That, and the fact the wizarding world was still entirely too interested in what Harry Potter was getting up to.

“It’s not…I just…”

“Relax, Harry.” Malfoy waved his fumbling aside. “I was just teasing.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Teasing?”

Malfoy coloured a little – Harry could see it even in the dim lighting. “My mistake. We’re clearly not at that stage yet.”

All Harry could focus on was the _yet_ , because the implication was that Malfoy expected they would be at some point. “How are the wedding plans coming on?” he asked, keen to change the subject. “Luna said you’re helping her out?”

Malfoy nodded. “Surprisingly well, actually. They’re both keen not to upset Neville’s gran, so I’m just trying to find a middle ground. Make sure there’s still some of what they want in there, you know? It’s their wedding, after all.”

“She can be a bit of challenge, can’t she?”

Malfoy laughed. “You’re not wrong. I’ve roped Mother in to deal with her. She’s much better with temperamental old ladies.”

“How is your mum?” Harry might consider his debt repaid, but he would always be grateful to Narcissa for her actions.

Malfoy looked surprised at the question.

 _I do have manners,_ Harry wanted to shout.

“She’s well, thank you for asking.”

There was an awkward pause then, but Harry had no intention of asking after Lucius just to fill it. “I suppose it’s good practice for when she gets to plan your wedding,” he said finally.

Malfoy placed his glass on the table and licked foam from his lips. Harry resolutely did _not_ look. “Mother has already accepted that’s unlikely to happen.”

“Oh?” Harry was surprised to hear that. Not that he’d given much thought to the prospect of Malfoy’s potential nuptials, but he’d thought that purebloods were all about continuing the family line. “You don’t want to get married then?”

“I’d need a partner first.” Malfoy expression was a touch wistful. “And for the wizarding world to recognise gay marriage.”

“You’re gay?” Harry didn’t mean to blurt that out but he was surprised. He’d always thought that Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were a thing. 

“What about you and Pansy though?”

“What about you and Ginevra?”

“Point.” Harry acknowledged, and then frowned. “But you can get married though, right?” He was sure Hermione’d said it was possible.

“A Muggle ceremony, yes.” 

Malfoy didn’t meet his gaze and Harry felt his temper rise. Maybe Malfoy was still that prejudiced little shit he’d always been.

“And that’s not good enough for you?” he snapped.

Malfoy looked up then, expression carefully neutral. “I’m not a Muggle. Is it so wrong to want my own community to recognise my rights?”

Chastened, Harry’s anger faded instantly. “No, it’s not.” He’d never really thought about it like that, but Malfoy had a point. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just a bit of a sore point.”

“So you and Pansy were never a thing then?”

“No, we were. I was young and confused – you know how it is.”

And Harry did. But it felt very strange having something in common with Malfoy.

“So,” Malfoy cleared his throat awkwardly. “How’re the plans for the big stag night coming along?”

Harry grimaced at the reminder. His plans needed some adjustment in the face of Neville’s reluctance.

Malfoy laughed at that. “Neville’s not keen, I take it?”

“Not really. Ron’s convinced we can talk him around, but…”

“He’s not really the shots and strippers sort, is he?”

Harry barked out a laugh at this despite himself. “He’s really not.” He paused for a moment, allowing a thought to form. “It’s weird, hearing you talk about him like you’re friends.”

“We _are_ friends.” Malfoy sounded a little offended.

“No,” Harry said hurriedly. “I know you are. I just meant, it’s weird, you know? In school, you two were all—”

“School was a long time ago,” Malfoy said softly. “People change.”

“So I’m told.” Harry replied. “It’s just, there’s Luna and Neville, Hermione, and even Ron says you’re okay now.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear I’ve got Weasley’s seal of approval.” Draco’s smile turned serious then. He placed his glass on the table and leant forward. “I’m not trying to steal your friends, Harry. Despite what nefarious plan you might think I’ve got going on.”

Harry flushed uncomfortably. “I didn’t think that.”

Malfoy arched one brow. “Didn’t you?”

“Okay,” Harry admitted. “Maybe a little. But it was pointed out to me how stupid I was being.”

“Hermione?” Malfoy asked with a smirk.

“Hermione,” Harry confirmed.

“She can be terrifying can’t she?”

“You don’t know the half of it.

They both laughed then, like friends sharing an inside joke, and Harry found himself surprisingly okay with it.

***

“So, I hear someone had a hot date at the weekend.”

Harry looked up from his beer curiously and was surprised to find George’s attention fixed on him. “Me?” he asked in confusion. “Pretty sure you heard wrong.”

“Come on, Harry.” George gave him a playful nudge. “There’s no need to be shy. We’re all friends, right?”

Ron, Neville, and Dean all nodded along in agreement, and everyone’s expression said they had a better idea of what this was about than Harry did.

“I spent most of the weekend on a stakeout near Birmingham. Believe me, there was nothing hot or date like about it. I think you need to check your sources, mate.”

George’s eyes gleamed playfully across the table. “I’m not sure I’d call Pansy a source, but she did get her information straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. “Malfoy?” he asked flatly. Of course the git couldn’t keep his trap shut.

“Malfoy, is it?” Dean asked. “I’d heard it was _Draco_ now.”

“No,” Harry snapped defensively. “I don’t know…you know what, you can all just sod off.”

“No need to be embarrassed, Harry.” Ron grinned at him over the top of his pint. “Hermione’s going to be very pleased to hear you took her advice to heart.”

“I thought we were supposed to be discussing Neville’s stag do, not my love life?”

“So, you admit it then?” George crowed triumphantly, as he rocked back precariously on his chair.

Ron reached out a hand and pulled his brother back onto four legs. “Because this is much more interesting than whatever nature ramble Nev is going to want to do.” He paused then before adding, “No offence, mate.”

Neville smiled placidly. “None taken.” He took a careful sip of his drink and then continued, “I think it’s great that you’re making the effort. Luna was really happy when I told her. It’ll make things much easier at the wedding if we don’t have to worry about you hexing Draco during the ceremony.”

“That’s a good point, actually,” Dean agreed. “I mean, as Best Man, Harry is basically Malfoy’s date, isn’t he?”

“What?” Harry spluttered into his beer. “That’s not…don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not that ridiculous,” Ron said thoughtfully. “Part of the wedding tradition, isn’t it? Best man and bridesmaid getting together.”

“No, I don’t know,” Harry gritted out through clenched jaw. “The only wedding I’ve been to was Bill’s, and I’m pretty sure Charlie and Gabrielle didn’t end up together.”

“Well, no. Gabrielle was too young. Besides, Charlie’s gay, you know that.”

“So I am!” Harry exploded, frustration finally getting the better of him. Not that it made the slightest difference to his supposed friends, who just seemed endlessly amused by his predicament.

“I know.” Ron nodded, sage like. “’S’what makes it so perfect. You’re gay, and Malfoy’s a bloke. And gay.”

“Plus there’s all that sexual tension between them.”

“Fuck off!” Dean was lucky he was out of reach, because right then Harry was very tempted to smack him in his smug face.

“No, no, he’s right.” George waved over to the bar for another round of drinks before returning to the conversation. “There’s a very fine line between love and hate. Pansy says she was never sure if you two were going to shag or kill each other most of the time.”

Cheeks burning, Harry buried his head in his hands. “I hate you all.”

Neville patted his arm consolingly. “Cheer up, Harry. It’s not like you actually _have_ to shag him.”

“Yeah, it’s only if you want to. Although, I bet he looks really pretty in his bridesmaid dress – you might not be able to resist.”

The odds of Dean getting punched before the night was out were narrowing by the moment, but fortunately the barman arrived at this point with their new drinks. Harry grabbed his fresh pint with relish and resigned himself to an evening spent discussing his imaginary sex life with Draco Malfoy.

And it was imaginary; Harry didn’t care what his friends said. So much so, that when he got home four pints later, he made sure to send Malfoy a sternly worded owl to this effect.

***

Shopping for clothes was way down on Harry’s list of ways to spend his day off. Truth be told, it was nowhere even near the list. But Luna had insisted, in that gentle, impossible-to-say-no-to way of hers, and Harry had caved. How could he not?

The robe makers was like no other shop that Harry had been in before. Clearly exclusive, by appointment only, and the absence of price tags gave him a guilty twinge at the thought of the bill his friends would undoubtedly be paying for all of this.

Malfoy was clearly more at home than the rest of them, as he ushered them confidently towards the fitting rooms.

“Bloody hell.” Ron stared around in wonder. “This place looks _expensive_. I daren’t touch anything in case I break it.”

“Probably best that you don’t touch, then, Weasley.” Malfoy had approached without them even noticing. “Harry,” he said. “Good to see you again.”

Harry ignored Ron mouthing _Harry?_ in question and instead smiled. “Draco. I take it you’re in charge of this part of the show?”

Malfoy smiled. “Mrs Longbottom was most insistent that I not let Neville choose the wedding robes.”

Harry looked over at his friend who did, admittedly, look a little dishevelled. It didn’t bother him, but he suspected something a little fancier was called for with a Malfoy-organised wedding.

“And look, not a bridesmaid dress in sight.” 

Malfoy smirked just a little and Harry couldn’t stop the colour flooding his cheeks. Ron, thankfully oblivious, saved him.

“You’re not putting us in those poncy robes that you wear, are you?” he asked, nose wrinkled in distaste.

Malfoy arched one brow in return. “Perhaps you’d prefer something with lace ruffles?”

Harry grinned despite himself, visions of his friend's Yule Ball robes came flooding back.

“He’s got you there, mate.” Dean laughed and slapped Ron on the back.

Malfoy’s expression turned a mixture of pleased and surprised that his remark had been accepted in the right spirit. Harry was beginning to learn that most of what he thought was sharp jabs were actually just Malfoy teasing, joking with friends.

Malfoy turned then, in a Snape-like swirl of robes, and was soon caught up in an intense conversation with the tailor. 

“You two are getting on better then?” Neville asked.

Harry kept watching Malfoy as he replied. “Yeah, he’s not quite as much of a git as he used to be.”

Neville patted him on the arm. “Good man. Luna will be pleased to hear that.”

Harry watched as the Malfoy and the tailor began to gather armfuls of robes. “This must be costing you a fortune,” he said, with a wince at the thought of it.

When Neville didn’t reply, Harry turned his attention to him and found his friend looking uncomfortable. 

“Actually, Draco’s paying for a lot of it. He insisted on it, actually.”

“Really?” Harry could admit Malfoy had changed, but this largesse was definitely not what he expected.

“Yeah. I think he still feels guilty. About Luna, you know?”

Harry knew a thing or two about guilt himself so he wisely didn’t comment on that. “Still, it’s really good of him,” he said instead.

“I keep telling you, Harry, he’s a good bloke.”

Harry smiled. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

But ten minutes later when Malfoy was ordering them in and out of dressing rooms, running his critical eye over their form, Harry did start to reconsider.

“Merlin, he’s a bossy little shit.” Ron tugged at the neck of the third set of robes he’d been forced into.

“I heard that, Weasley.” A blond head appeared around the side of a nearby dressing room curtain. “I can still put you in lace, you know?”

Harry didn’t hear Ron’s reply. Instead he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of Malfoy’s pale skin, and couldn’t help wonder if it was really as soft as it looked. He swallowed hard.

“You okay, Harry?” Ron looked at him in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry managed to say once he’d unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. But he really wasn’t fine, because the image of Malfoy’s pale collarbone was burned into his brain, and, Merlin help him, he wanted to taste.

***

A quick glance at his watch told Harry he was already late. He moved as quickly as he could over the wet cobbles of Diagon Alley, but the slippery ground hampered his movements. The bakery he was heading to was new and he had only a vague idea of where it was. Draco had provided very specific directions but they were currently on the hall table in Grimmauld Place, so Harry had only his memory to rely on. The blur of rain on his glasses didn’t help, nor did the unpleasant sensation of rain trickling its way past his collar. Kreacher had tried to press an umbrella on him as he left, but the skies had been blue at the time, so Harry had waved his protests off. There would be one smug elf waiting for him when he got home.

As he slipped his way down the surprisingly busy alley, Harry finally caught sight of his destination and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. Cake testing wasn’t the typical duty of a best man, but with Neville stuck at Hogwarts, and Luna off on one last pre-wedding creature hunt, he and Draco had been pressed into service. Not that eating free cake was any hardship. And even spending time with Draco (and he had become firmly that in Harry’s mind now) was no longer the terrible prospect it had once been.

He hurried through the brightly painted door, and a tinkling bell announced his arrival. Draco was already there, of course, smartly dressed and dry as a bone.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Draco smiled. “You’re actually right on time.” At Harry’s confused look, he continued, “Hermione mentioned that time-keeping isn’t your strong point, so she suggested I give you an earlier time.”

Harry huffed in amusement; he could hardly deny it was true. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them futilely on his wet jumper.

Draco’s smile widened. “Honestly, Harry. Call yourself a wizard?” He plucked the glasses from Harry’s hands and cast a quick spell on them. Then placed them gently back on Harry’s face.

Harry’s breath caught as he felt the cool touch of Draco’s fingers on his skin, as he carefully brushed damp strands of hair out of his eyes.

“There are spells for this, you know?” Draco’s hands fell to his sides and Harry missed the touch. He didn’t, however, miss the slight pink flush dusting Draco’s cheeks.

“Thanks. I was in a hurry and didn’t think.”

Draco’s smile couldn’t be called anything other than fond. “Only you,” he said, with a shake of his head.

The moment was broken then as they were ushered into the back room where a table of delicious looking samples awaited them. Harry’s stomach rumbled again and he flushed in embarrassment.

“Hungry?” Draco asked in amusement.

“I didn’t have lunch.” Harry took his seat at the table. “Didn’t want to spoil my appetite.”

“You should try this one first.” Draco pushed a plate in front of him. “It’s my favourite.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, and he let out a groan of pleasure as the rich chocolate flavour burst across his tongue.

“Good?” Draco asked, eyes a little wider than before.

“Definitely.” And to prove his point, Harry dug back in for a second bite.

Draco cut off a small piece himself and raised it to his mouth. As the dark sponge disappeared between his lips, Harry saw a flash of pink tongue delicately slide around the fork. He tried to convince himself the curl of pleasure was due to the cake itself.

The red velvet came next and Harry was equally as enamoured. It seemed anything chocolate based was a winner for them. Draco’s tongue made another appearance as he cleaned red crumbs from his lips, and Harry struggled to convince himself it was the cake that time.

Draco watched in amusement as Harry eagerly made his way through the samples on offer. But his smile lacked the mocking edge Harry was used to seeing there, and he revelled in the warmth this knowledge caused.

“This one,” Harry said decidedly, and stabbed his fork back into the sponge to emphasise his point. “You have to taste this; it’s amazing.”

Before Draco could cut his own piece, Harry loaded his own fork and held it over the table.

Draco’s eyes widened further, but he leant forward and, steadying Harry’s hand with his own, carefully took a bite. With his eyes fixed on Draco’s mouth, Harry felt a heat bloom in his cheeks as he realised how forward he was being. He was feeding Draco!

Draco didn’t seem to see anything out of the ordinary, though. He sat back in his chair and chewed thoughtfully. Harry, meanwhile, could still feel the ghost of Draco’s touch on his hand.

“I think you’re right,” Draco said finally. He reached for the label. “Lemon and elderflower,” he read aloud. “Unusual, but kind of fitting considering our bride.”

Harry grinned, relieved he hadn’t made the moment awkward.

Decision made, Harry watched as Draco placed the order and then paid for it.

“My present to them,” Draco explained when he caught Harry watching.

“That’s nice of you.” Harry didn’t mention he knew exactly how much of the wedding Draco was actually paying for. The Malfoy of old would doubtless have bragged loudly, but this was Draco, and there was something very attractive about his modest generosity.

As they turned to exit the bakery, Harry found himself reluctant to part. “We should do this again,” he blurted out.

“More cake?” Draco asked, an amused quirk to his lips.

“Well, no. Not this exactly. But a drink maybe?”

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “I’d like that,” he said. “I have to meet mother now, but owl me when you’re free.”

Harry nodded in return. “I will.” He’d do it the minute he got home, but Draco didn’t need to know that yet. He turned to go, but was stopped by Draco’s hand on his arm.

“Wait.”

Harry turned in surprise just as Draco cast a quick _Impervious_ at him. “Don’t want you getting wet again.”

As he slipped his way over the cobbles this time, Harry knew the warmth he felt had nothing to do with the spell.

***

Dancing had never been Harry’s forte, there was no denying that. But when Luna had taken his hand minutes earlier, he hadn’t thought twice about following her to the dance floor.

“You look beautiful.” And she really did. The elegant ivory dress was nothing like Harry would have imagined she’d choose but it suited her perfectly. He suspected Draco’d had a hand in the decision making.

Luna blushed prettily. “Thank you, Harry.” She reached up and tweaked his tie. “You look rather handsome yourself.”

A matching flush coloured Harry’s face – he’d never learned to take a compliment with grace. “I don’t know about that,” he muttered.

“Well, I do.” Luna smiled dreamily and allowed Harry to guide her in a turn. “And Draco noticed too.”

“Luna,” Harry warned. They’d been over this already.

“He noticed, Harry.” Luna paid his warning no heed. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you looking too.”

Clearly Harry’s blush wasn’t leaving any time soon. “Fine.” He huffed a laugh. “I might have looked. There’s no harm in looking.”

Luna’s smile turned a little smug. “No harm at all. In fact, I think you should do rather more than just look.”

Harry almost tripped over his own feet. “Luna!”

She just laughed. “Oh, Harry, don’t be such a prude. _You_ like him.” Her expression dared him to deny it. “And _he_ likes you.” 

“I really don’t think—”

“He likes you.” It was said with the confidence of knowledge and caused a pleasant squirm in Harry’s belly.

“Are you supposed to be telling me this?”

Luna gave a little shrug. “It’s my wedding day. He can’t be mad at me today.”

Harry slanted a glance across the room and watched as Draco chatted with Hermione. He’d been seeing him through new eyes for a while now, but he’d never dreamt it could be reciprocal.

“What did he say exactly?” Screw discretion, Harry needed to know.

But before Luna could spill even more beans, Neville was there, hand outstretched to reclaim his bride. Awkwardly alone on the dance floor, Harry turned to leave. Only there was Pansy Parkinson and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Potter. Dance with me.” And rather than wait for agreement, she took hold of him firmly. The glint in her eyes threatened pain if he refused and Harry was no fool. So he placed his hand lightly on her waist and began to lead her carefully around the floor.

“Draco seems to be enjoying himself.”

Harry’s stomach sank as he saw where the conversation was heading. He followed Pansy’s gaze to where Draco was still with Hermione, only now he was frowning slightly in their direction.

“He did a great job with the wedding,” Harry replied, because really everyone knew whose vision it really was.

“He always had excellent taste.” Pansy flipped her hair back and fixed Harry with a baleful stare. “I’m not so certain recently.”

Harry swallowed hard. “Pansy, I’m not sure what—”

“George says you’re a good bloke. Most people do. But until very recently all I’ve seen is you treating my best friend like a pariah.”

Harry didn’t respond. Couldn’t. He remembered only too well the things he’d said, how he’d shunned Draco since the end of the war. But in his defence, he hadn’t understood, hadn’t known Draco then. He knew that was unlikely to sway Pansy though.

“Ow!” A painful throb centered on Harry’s left foot. His eyes widened as he stared at Pansy. She smiled the fakest sweet smile in return. “Um, you’re on my foot.” Which of course she knew, but Harry felt it worth pointing out as she showed no sign of moving.

“I know.” And she smiled some more.

“D’you think you could get off? It’s rather painful.”

“Good.”

The pain intensified for a moment as she leant forward, and then only an ache remained as she stepped back.

“Draco thinks you’re something special. I might not like you, but I love him, so I don’t intend to interfere. But if you hurt him, the next part of you that becomes intimately acquainted with my foot will be somewhere else altogether. Understood?”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Understood, Potter?”

Mindful of her vivid warning, and a desire to protect his rather more delicate parts, Harry nodded. “Understood.”

Her smile brightened then, turned almost genuine. “Excellent. I’m glad we had this little chat. I’ve no doubt we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other soon.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry lied because really what else could he say.

Pansy laughed then, loud and throaty. “You’re a shit liar, Potter.” She patted him gently on the cheek. “That bodes well for you.” The music slowed then. Pansy stepped back and let her hands fall to her sides. With only a nod in his direction, she turned to leave.

Harry let out a sigh, relieved to have survived the encounter relatively unscathed. But his time on the dance floor was not done.

“Hello, Harry.”

Ginny smiled at him uncertainly as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Ginny.” Harry smiled – they were far enough from their break up that he could do that without pain now. “You look lovely.” And she really did. The gold in her dress complimented her hair perfectly. But it was an abstract observation, and he was relieved to feel no attraction remained.

Unlike Luna’s blushing, Ginny simply grinned. “I know.” She stepped into his arms and his hands automatically found her waist – they still fit together well. “Have fun with Parkinson?”

Harry grimaced. “It was interesting.”

Ginny laughed. “I can imagine. Careful George doesn’t get jealous.”

Harry stilled for a moment. “There’s nothing going on, Gin.”

“I know. I’m only teasing.”

They moved silently for a short while, only the sound of music and others’ conversations.

“I don’t think it’s George’s jealousy you need to worry about,” Ginny said finally.

Harry stopped concentrating on his feet for a moment. “Huh?”

Ginny nodded over to the side of the room where Draco stood watching, a blank expression on his face. He took a visibly deep breath and then turned to leave. Harry watched him go in confusion.

“He’s jealous, Harry.”

“Of me?” Harry frowned, because that didn’t make any sense.

Ginny laughed and shook her head. “No, of me.”

Harry’s frown deepened. He understood what she was saying now but it still didn’t make any sense.

_”He thinks you’re something special.”_

Pansy’s words came back to him then and everything fell into place. He came to a sudden halt in the middle of the floor. “I should…” he gestured towards the door.

Ginny nodded. “Go.”

“You’re sure?”

Ginny just huffed. “Perfectly. I’m sure Dean can keep me company in your absence.”

At her words, Harry became aware of another pair of eyes watching them intently. He hadn’t realised Ginny and Dean were a thing again, but it made sense. They had so much more in common than she and Harry ever had.

She gave him a gentle shove. “Go, Harry. Before he leaves.”

No further encouragement required, Harry took his courage in both hands and followed quickly in Draco’s footsteps. He hadn’t left, thankfully. He was just short distance outside the marquee. But he cut a lonely figure in the darkness and Harry could see the tension in his frame, even from afar. 

“Draco,” he said softly, and walked quickly towards him. As he drew near, Harry saw how brittle Draco’s expression was, and felt a sharp pang that he had caused that, however unintentionally. 

“Harry.” Draco gave a jerky nod. “Enjoying the party?”

“It’s a bit more fancy than I’m used to,” Harry admitted ruefully. “You did a great job, though.”

Draco’s smile widened a little, but looked no more genuine. “Your dance card certainly seems to be full.”

“It’s empty right now.” Harry took a deep breath, prayed he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself, and held his hand out.

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Potter—”

“Harry,” Harry corrected.

Draco’s smile was the tiniest bit genuine this time. “Harry then.” His gaze drifted to Harry’s outstretched hand. “What are you—”

“Dance with me? I’m told it’s tradition – Best Man and Maid of Honour.”

Draco reached out and slid his hand carefully into Harry’s outstretched one. “Even if I’m not wearing my bridesmaid dress?”

Harry placed his hands firmly on Draco’s waist – he wasn’t letting go now – and grinned. “Well, we have to save something for the second date, don’t we?”

“Second date?” Draco’s brows rose slightly. “That’s little presumptuous, don’t you think?” But the warmth in his eyes told the truth.

Harry laughed and felt freer than he had in a long time. “Any objections?”

Draco’s hands settled on Harry’s shoulders and he closed the gap between them. “None at all.”

“Be sure to let me know if that changes,” Harry said, and leant forward until his lips almost brushed Draco’s skin.

“Oh, I will,” Draco replied, and then he was kissing Harry.

But their lips had barely touched before a crowd of people spilled out of the marquee, and excited chatter filled the air. Draco tried to pull back, but Harry only tightened his grip.

“They’ll see,” Draco hissed, eyes wide in the darkness.

Harry only stepped in close again, crowding Draco against a nearby tree. “Scared, Malfoy?” 

From the grin on his face it was clear Draco remembered. “You wish.” And to prove his point, he wrapped one hand around the back of Harry’s neck and tugged him back in, pressing their lips together again.

Fireworks burst to life around them, but all Harry could focus on was the softness of Draco’s lips, the slick tease of his tongue, and the heat radiating off his body where they were pressed together. There were loud cheers for the fireworks, but Harry was pretty sure the wolf whistle (thank you, Ron) was meant for them. He had a vague thought that maybe they were making a bit of a spectacle and they should find somewhere a little more private, but then Draco’s hands slid inside his robes, hot against the cool flesh, and Harry really didn’t care anymore.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment below. ♥
> 
> This story is part of HD Erised, an on-going anonymous fest. The author will be revealed January 7th.


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